“If your journey felt quicker than you thought it would be, you’re probably only halfway done.” Old Valish proverb.

Everyone hurried across the bridge with the revelation of what they were now up against. Garassk started deliberately moving the eggs on the bridge so that they would fall off.

“We’d best deal with as much of the problem now as we can,” he muttered. Everyone else followed his lead. The sounds of eggs cracking echoed like a thunderclap as they hit the ground.

“I hope we’re doing enough,” Diama said. “There’s still a lot of eggs.”

“We’ll worry about that later,” Rathorn said.

“Might we do something about the ones on the walls?” Garassk asked.

“No,” Rathorn growled. “I’m saving my bolts for something that will fight back.”

“I’d really like to deal with them, but I see your point,” Garassk replied through clenched teeth.

“We might be able to do something when we reach the castle,” Flint said. “The court alchemists might be able to brew something up that exterminates them.”

They eventually reached the city walls. The eggs on the sides started to twitch a bit, making them jump.

“We’re not going to be able to just walk through the front gate, are we?” Diama asked.

“Who wants to knock first?” Garassk asked.

“Is anyone even here?” Rathorn added. “This whole place has been empty.”

“There is a secret passage inside,” Flint said. “I haven’t used it in awhile, but it’s real.”

“It better be close,” Garassk said. “Because I think some of those eggs are about to hatch.”

“We’ll have to go around,” Flint replied. “This way!”

More eggs twitched as they hurried past the city walls. Each twitch made them move faster. Occasionally, they moved an egg on the ground off of the ledge, but doing so with every egg would have taken too long. They moved in a circle until they saw the beginning of a staircase.

“This is what we’re walking towards?” Garassk squawked.

“You didn’t think the passage was just right behind the wall, did you?” Flint replied.

“Well, no, but this seems a bit obvious,” Garassk said.

“We live underground. We don’t get attacked often.”

“Fair enough.”

Flint ran his hand along the wall. Garassk was about to ask why, but then he remembered the doors in the previous room, and assumed that the passage worked in a similar way. As they got farther down, the number of eggs decreased. Garassk hoped that that meant the bugs weren’t around closer to the ground.

“Uh oh,” Diama blurted out. “They’re hatching!”

Sure enough, several eggs had already started shattering and smaller bugs started crawling out into the world.

“Dammit,” Rathorn muttered. “That door better be close!”

A scream from above signaled that the bugs had found them. Garassk braced for the beasts to start flying down toward them.

“Almost there,” Flint said.

“Get ready,” Garassk said. “They’re coming.”

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The infants spread their wings and buzzed down like hungry hawks going for the kill. Garassk swung for the nearest bug, shearing its wings from the air. The creature collapsed on the ground, and crawled towards him, snapping at his feet.

“Got it!” Flint shouted, right as the wall clicked and slid open. Everyone backed into the newly opened room, striking at the bugs to keep them from following.

Once they were all in, the wall slid back into place. Thankfully, they’d managed to enter alone, though it took them several minutes to accept that.

“I guess you found it,” Garassk said, relaxing a little. “Now what?”

“We head upstairs,” Flint answered. “This leads to the barracks.”

“Makes sense,” Garassk replied. “You’re either sending armed men through a shortcut, or tricking an invader into walking into an ambush.”

“I suppose that’s a good way of thinking about it,” Flint said. He headed off, prompting the others to follow him.

“I’ve never been down here before,” Diama said. “This place is amazing.”

Indeed, the passage seemed to be designed to inspire awe in those who walked the halls. Elaborate designs had been carved into the walls, ranging from scenes from history (or myth. It was impossible to tell at a glance), to writing that Garassk had no hope of reading himself. He could only imagine what the castle itself would be like.

“So what is all of this?” Rathorn asked.

“A warning,” Flint said. “At least, that’s what my uncle told me. I don’t think anyone really knows.”

“No one?” Diama asked.

“This kingdom is older than you realize,” Flint explained. “I doubt there’s anyone alive who can answer your questions.”

“There doesn’t seem to be anyone alive here at all,” Garassk said. “I hate to point it out, but the city seemed pretty empty. Is there really going to be anyone in the castle?”

“In truth, I don’t know,” Flint said. “But we’re here now. We’d best press forward.”

They walked until they reached a dead-end. Wordlessly, Flint went to the wall and found the switch to open it.

Garassk flicked his tongue out to the taste of empty air. Entering the barracks had a certain ominous feel to it. The room itself was empty. Stranger still, the weapon racks were devoid of weapons.

“It’s like no one has ever been here,” Diama said.

“I’m starting to think that coming here was a bad idea,” Garassk said.

“Well there’s no turning back now,” Flint said. “We have to get to the throne room.”

He barged out, forcing the others to follow him. Garassk continued to flick his tongue out. He could vaguely taste the scent of death.

“Just to be clear, you do have an escape plan if the king’s not here?” he asked. He had to shout, for Flint was running to their next destination.

“There’s a path to the surface on the other side of the city,” Flint called back. “But we need to make sure that someone else can deal with the problem here first. Or keep them from finding it.”

“Fine,” Garassk hissed. He was squeezing the handle of his sword as he tried to keep pace. The castle halls were as empty as the rest of the cave had been, and he was beginning to regret agreeing to investigate this mess.

“Here we are,” Flint called out, slowing to a halt.

The throne room was large enough that several of the previous rooms in the cave could fit into it, and decorated with all manner of gold and jewelry to create a display of opulence. The throne itself was atop a staircase that obscured much of it from view.

“You dwarves know how to show off,” Garassk said. “How is the king even going to hear us from up there?”

“We’re supposed to approach him,” Flint said.

“Anything to get this over with,” Garassk muttered, walking up the stairs. Every step felt like years of life passing by.

They stopped shortly before reaching the last steps as a horrifying realization hit them.

“What? No,” Flint whispered. “This can’t be right.”

“No,” Diama whispered. “No no no no.”

A figure was seated in the throne. A figure dressed in the finest royal robes this land had to offer. But the clothing couldn’t hide the fact that it was a skeleton wearing it.

“Gods,” Rathorn muttered. “He’s dead.”